Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from United Kingdom and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Swans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lakeside,
Dead Boys,
The Kinks,
Suicide,
Toni Rubio,
Animal Collective,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Aswad,
Joensuu 1685,
Porter Ricks,
Inner City,
Index,
Tom Boy,
The Monks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Black Dice,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Urselle,
World's Most,
Pantaleimon,
Saccharine Trust,
The Tremeloes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hot Snakes,
Pierre Henry,
Roger Hodgson,
Bootsy Collins,
Drive Like Jehu,
Depeche Mode,
Terry Callier,
Marine Girls,
Crime,
The Gap Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pussy Galore,
Nick Fraelich,
Piero Umiliani,
The Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Roxy Music,
The Dead C,
The Remains,
Alice Coltrane,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aural Exciters,
Loose Ends,
Popol Vuh,
Andrew Hill,
U.S. Maple,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Star Department,
Cluster,
The Real Kids,
David McCallum,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kevin Saunderson,
Oneida,
Donald Byrd,
Yellowson,
Yazoo,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.